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Pastor Derrick Overholt continued our In Christ series with a bracing word from Ephesians 5:11–14 he titled “Desensitized to Darkness.” Derrick began where Ephesians begins: with identity before activity. Chapters 1–3 of the letter tell us who we are—sons and daughters made new in Jesus, no longer slaves to sin, clothed in Christ’s righteousness. Only then do chapters 4–6 tell us how to live. The “therefore” of obedience makes sense only if we remember to whom we belong. We do not strive to live right to become God’s children; we live right because we already are. That identity puts the call to holiness in its proper frame: not as a ladder to earn favor, but as the family resemblance of grace growing within us. When the light of Christ has entered, darkness cannot remain. Fruit does not appear because we grit our teeth and try harder; it grows naturally from what we’re connected to.

From that foundation, Derrick walked slowly through Paul’s command: “Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them.” Paul is not merely auditing external behaviors. He presses into the inner life—the mind, the speech, the hidden turns of the heart—because what we allow in will inevitably come out. Jesus said it plainly and Derrick quoted it: “Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks” (Luke 6; Matthew 12). If anger, coarse language, contempt, or cynicism keep slipping past our lips, they didn’t materialize from nowhere. They are symptoms of what we have been welcoming, normalizing, and naming “no big deal.”

That’s where Derrick introduced the image that shaped the rest of the message: desensitization. He described allergy shots—small doses over time that train the body to stop reacting. Spiritually, we can take “sin shots” the same way: little exposures that slowly dull our conscience until things that once pricked us now pass by without a twinge. Culture rarely swings in one violent lurch; it drifts by inches. And we drift with it when we keep absorbing, entertaining, and excusing what Scripture calls unfruitful. Derrick was candid about how entertainment forms us. What we watch, listen to, and scroll disciples our desires. It teaches our emotions how to react and quietly redraws the line between normal and abnormal. Not everything is neutral, he reminded us. Some inputs are simply unfruitful, siphoning the life that should be feeding the fruitful branches. Farmers prune for this reason. So should disciples.

“Take no part” is stronger than “don’t do it.” It includes not welcoming, not normalizing, and not staying silent in ways that communicate agreement. Derrick even pressed into how this plays out in public life, not with partisan bluster but with integrity. In a culture that wants to catechize our affections through a constant feed, choosing to be quietly faithful in our civic stewardship can be part of our discipleship. We guard the heart not only by saying no to what defiles, but by committing ourselves to what is true, honorable, and just.

This is not a call to fear or legalism. Derrick returned again and again to the safety of our identity in Christ. The goal is a clear heart that hears the Holy Spirit. Spiritual warfare is real—not the stuff of sensational stories, but the daily contest over what fills our attention and trains our appetites. We are not merely physical creatures; we are spiritual beings too. What enters through our eyes and ears touches the inner person. The Holy Spirit indwells us, and Derrick wanted us to imagine how our choices look if we remember his nearness. If we were consciously aware of the Lord’s presence on the couch beside us, would we still press play? That’s not shame talking—it’s sobriety shaped by love. We are not made for the world’s diet. Why would we insist on being entertained by the same things it feasts on when those very inputs often numb us to God?

From this, Derrick turned to what it means to “expose” darkness. He insisted it does not mean harshness, shaming, or pride. Exposure looks like living differently, speaking truth in love, and simply refusing to agree with sin—without turning people into projects or arguments into hobbies. Correction requires relationship and humility on both sides. We can’t correct everyone, and we shouldn’t try. But in close relationships, exposure often sounds like a gentle “no thanks” or a quiet conversation marked by concern and patience. Derrick put it sharply: “If you won’t receive correction, you shouldn’t give it.” The plank-and-speck wisdom of Jesus applies. We must be the first to welcome the light into our own hidden places.

None of this lands unless it becomes practical, and Derrick did not leave it in abstraction. He spoke about “pruning” inputs that keep us stuck and cutting off access where we know we are weak. For him, that meant naming past battles with pornography, repenting to his wife and elders, and choosing stringent accountability. He has internet restrictions on his phone and computer and limits that disable access entirely at certain times. He described why that felt like freedom, not punishment: those “sin shots” had walled off his hearing, and shutting the door reopened space to hear the Spirit. Jesus’ hard mercy about removing what causes us to sin is not an invitation to self-harm; it’s a lifeline to wholeness. It is wiser to lose a convenience than to keep losing our clarity.

Derrick also applied the word “desensitization” to our broader media habits. Many of us have experienced the line slowly moving over decades. What was once unthinkable becomes familiar, then comedic, then celebrated. He named examples across genres—shows that turn bedrooms into plotlines, songs that narrate exploitation as nostalgia, screens that normalize fear and violence as entertainment. The point wasn’t to build a blacklist but to unmask a process: little by little, what we welcome can reshape what we call normal. When our spirit no longer winces where it once did, that’s not enlightenment; it may be evidence that our tolerance has grown while our tenderness has shrunk. In that place, repentance is not a grovel; it is a doorway back to joy. We are returning to our Father who has already given us new clothes. Why keep rummaging for the old ones?

As Derrick unpacked Ephesians 5, he lingered on the hope embedded in the command: “Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” Wakefulness is not self-generated; it is a response to light that already dawns. The Spirit convicts to restore, not to crush. When darkness is exposed, it becomes visible, and what becomes visible can be transformed. We may have grown used to habits that keep us heavy and dull, but the Lord has not grown used to them. He names them unfruitful because he loves us, and because he has more for us than numbness dressed up as freedom.

This also reframes why secrecy is so destructive. Darkness thrives in what we refuse to name; light heals by bringing things into the open before God and trusted people. For some, that means telling a spouse or a close friend, “I need you to put the code on my phone.” For others, it may look like setting real time limits, uninstalling certain apps, choosing new reading and listening patterns, or even disposing of material that keeps pulling you back. It may sound dramatic to lock down devices or toss a stack of DVDs or books, but Derrick’s testimony made it plain: removing access often feels like oxygen to a suffocating heart. The Spirit uses ordinary, practical obedience to clear space for grace.

Throughout, Derrick kept circling back to identity. We are not renouncing these things to earn holiness. We are renouncing them because the Holy One has claimed us. Sons and daughters grow up into the family likeness by staying close to their Father. That’s why Derrick urged us not to let either fear or pride drive our choices. Fear can shrink life down to a list of prohibitions. Pride can make us harsh. Love remembers who we are and leads us to live as children of light. Exposure then becomes less about pointing fingers and more about staying so near to Jesus that our lives quietly illumine what is true.

Near the end, Derrick prayed that the Lord would reveal where “sin shots” have dulled our hearing. He asked for the Spirit to restore conviction where it has faded, to make the unfruitful obvious again, and to teach us to prune anything that robs life from what God wants to grow. That is the heart of Ephesians 5 and the heartbeat of In Christ as a series. New life leads to new living because we are connected to Jesus. Light in means darkness out. If the inputs have been muddying the waters, we can ask for a clean spring again. Awake, O sleeper. Not to a grind of self-effort, but to the shining of Christ.